A Newsies Christmas
by 0'EmeraldEyes'0
Summary: A series of twelve Holiday oneshots, each one for a specific character set to a specific holiday song. Includes some romance, some humor, and everything else that we love about the newsies. Merry Christmas!
1. Mush

**Disclaimer: Not my song. Not my Mush.**

_Author's Note: So here's the deal. Christmas is my favorite holiday and so, as my Christmas gift to all of you (should you choose to accept it lol) is a series of twelve holiday one-shots, for each of the twelve days of Christmas. Each one will be for a specific character from the movie, set to the tune of a specific holiday song. They are not all in the same time period, and in some the characters are older or younger than they are in the movie. In my author's note I'll try and remember to fill you in on the scenerio. Here is the first one, it's little-kid Mush, and it's more modern day. This song, by the way, it possibly the saddest song ever written, so be careful, lol. I hope you enjoy these, they are just little glimpses of what the holidays mean for different people. And hopefully, if you do like them, you will leave me lots of good reviews. P.S. Whoever is the best reviewer, I will write a one-shot for them, anything they choose, as an extra Christmas treat, lol, though it will be after Christmas by then. Oh well, Happy Holidays!_

_**It was almost Christmas time, and there I stood in another line.  
Tryin' to buy that last gift or two, not really in the Christmas mood.  
Standing right in front of me was a little boy waiting anxiously,  
Pacing 'round like little boys do,  
And in his hands he held a pair of shoes...**_

_**His clothes were worn and old, he was dirty from head to toe.  
And when it came his time to pay,  
I couldn't believe what I heard him say...**_

_**"Sir, I want to buy these shoes for my Mama, please.  
It's Christmas Eve and these shoes are just her size.  
Could you hurry, sir, Daddy says there's not much time.  
You see, she's been sick for quite a while,  
And I know these shoes would make her smile.  
And I want her to look beautiful, if Mama meets Jesus tonight..."**_

_**He counted pennies for what seemed like years.  
Then the cashier said, "Son, there's not enough here."  
He searched his pockets frantically,  
Then he turned and he looked at me.  
He said, "Mama made Christmas good at our house, Though most years she just did without.  
Tell me, Sir, what am I going to do,  
Somehow I've got to buy her these Christmas shoes..."**_

_**So I laid the money down, I just had to help him out.  
I'll never forget the look on his face when he said,  
"Mama's gonna look so great!"**_

_**I knew I'd caught a glimpse of heaven's love,  
As he thanked me and ran out.  
I knew that God had sent that little boy  
To remind me what Christmas is all about.**_

_**"Sir, I want to buy these shoes for my Mama, please.  
It's Christmas Eve and these shoes are just her size.  
Could you hurry, sir, Daddy says there's not much time.  
You see, she's been sick for quite a while,  
And I know these shoes would make her smile.  
And I want her to look beautiful, if Mama meets Jesus tonight..."**_

_**-"The Christmas Shoes" by Bob Carlisle-**_

"Where are you going?" A man called out his front door.

Mush waved him off, "I got somethin' tah do first!"

"Please hurry home, son..." the man sad, looking sadly back inside the house.

But Mush was already gone.

It was Christmas Eve, and Mush scrambled down the freezing city streets He was just a little boy – barely ten years old – but a little boy with a mission. Mush pressed his hands up against the glass of the shop window; fingers spread wide, his breath casting thick fog over the panes, making it nearly impossible to see. But through the frost, Mush spotted them. The prettiest pair of high-heeled black shoes he'd ever seen. They had a thin strap that went over the ankle, with a tiny silver clasp.

Mush remembered his mother when she was healthy: she used to have a little black dancing dress that would've gone perfectly with these shoes. But they'd had to sell it when they'd lost the house. They'd lost a lot when they'd lost the house.

Mush's father had had to quit his job to stay home for many months with Mush's mother, trying to nurse her back to health. But to no avail. The last time they'd been to the doctor – about a month ago – he'd told the family that Mrs. Meyers had not much more than a few weeks left. No worse a time for news like that than Christmas.

Mush backed away from the window and sloshed his way to the door. A tiny bell rang as he pushed it open and the boy smiled a little at its sweet sound. Everything in the shop looked clean and way out of Mush's price range, but he shook his head resolutely. He'd been saving any money he could find for months, all for this one most special Christmas gift.

"Can I help you, son?" a store employee asked.

Mush looked up at him with his enormous puppy-dog eyes. "Yes sir," he said politely, "Could you reach them shoes there for me?" He pointed to the sparkly high heels.

The man looked up and grabbed the box off the display in the window, "These here?"

Mush nodded, his lips pressed together. The man handed him the box and Mush quickly nodded his thanks, hurrying to the register. The line seemed to go on forever, with everyone out and buying that last present or two. Mush watched everyone around him, noticing not many faces were all that happy. This made Mush frown. It was Christmas Eve, after all, shouldn't they all have been in the Christmas mood? But Mush just shook it off, he had far more important things to worry about right now. And who knows, maybe they all had sick mothers as well. Mush knew he was having his own hard time being happy, even at this time of year.

And then it was Mush's turn. He leaned up on his tip-toes and put the box on the counter, peaking his nose out over the edge. The man behind the counter gave him a suspicious look but rung it up nonetheless. When Mush heard the total, he nodded stoutly and pulled a marble bag full of pennies from his jacket pocket. He ignored several impatient sighs from customers behind him in line as he pushed the whole pile towards the cashier.

The man raised his eyebrows at him but began sorting the pennies. When he was through he looked up. "Son, there's not enough here," he told Mush.

Mush's eyes got wide and his heart started beating faster. "Are you sure?" he asked. The cashier looked down at the pennies once more before meeting Mush's eyes.

"I'm sure," he said, nodding.

Mush looked, tears forming in his eyes, from the cashier to the pennies on the counter, and back towards the rest of the people waiting in line – all tapping their toes impatiently.

"Sir," Mush said sadly, turning back to the cashier. "I wanna buy these shoes for my Mama."

The man raised his eyebrows.

"Please," Mush continued. "It's Christmas Eve, and them shoes is just her size."

The cashier looked sadly at Mush. "I'm sorry son. Perhaps you could go home and get some more money from your father and come back again? I'll hold the shoes for you," he said, about to put the box behind the counter.

Mush reached out his hand. "No!" he said, "Ya hafta hurry, Sir. Daddy says there's not much time."

By now not only the cashier was listening to Mush's heart-breaking story, but also most people in the line. "You see," Mush continued seriously, "She's been sick for a long while."

The cashier set the box back out on the counter, watching the little boy's eyes fill up with tears. "But I know them shoes are gonna make her smile," Mush insisted.

The shop was quiet as Mush pushed the pennies back at the cashier with such insistence that the poor man could say nothing. "An' I want her to look beautiful," Mush explained, "If Mama meets Jesus tonight."

No one said a word. The toe-tapping of the other customers had ceased and they were all instead watching the dirty little Mulatto boy try and buy a pair of fancy shoes with nothing but pennies.

Just then the man right behind Mush stepped up to the counter. For a moment, Mush thought he was pushing him out of the line and his face was already all screwed up with anger before he saw the green bills the man had slapped down on the counter.

"Here," the man said softly.

Mush looked up at him with his round doe eyes, a single tear slipping down his dirt-stained cheek.

The cashier took the money and paid out the shoes. The cash register made a little ding noise – the sound of victory to Mush's ears. The cashier wrapped the shoes in a little bit of gold-colored tissue paper and handed the box to Mush.

Mush clutched it to his chest, turned to the stranger who'd lent him the money and smiled. The light in that smile of his was just like the light of heaven itself, shining with all the mercy and love that Christmas was offered. "Mama's gonna look so great," he whispered. And with that, Mush beamed at the other customers just once more before turning and hurrying through the door. The sound of the bell settled on the silence he'd left in the shop behind him.

_A/N: Review Review Review! Please?_


	2. Les

**Disclaimer: Not mine.**

_Author's Notes: I thought we needed a happy story next lol, after the last chapter. So here is the Les story, with Racetrack trying to explain to him the finer points of Santa Clause. It's set in the same time frame as the movie, and the characters are their respective ages. Hope you enjoy ... and review, lol._

**_You'd better watch out!  
You'd better not cry!  
You'd better not pout!  
I'm telling you why,  
Santa Claus is comin' to town.  
He's making a list  
and checking it twice.  
He's going to find out who's naughty and nice.  
Santa Claus Is Comin' To Town._**

**_He sees when you are sleeping.  
He knows when you're awake.  
He knows if you've been bad or good.  
So be good for goodness sake!_**

**_With little tin horns and little toy drums,  
rootie-toot-toots and rum-a-tum tums.  
Santa Claus Is Comin' To Town_**

**_Curly head dolls that toddle and coo,  
elephant folks and kiddie cars too.  
Santa Claus Is Comin' To Town_**

**_You'd better watch out!  
You'd better not cry!  
You'd better not pout!  
I'm telling you why,  
Santa Claus is comin' to town.  
He's making a list  
and checking it twice.  
He's going to find out who's naughty and nice.  
Santa Claus Is Comin' To Town!_**

**_-Santa Clause Is Comin' To Town-_**

"Hey, whatcha cryin' fah, kid?" Race asked a pouty-faced Les Jacobs.

Les sniffed, pretty pathetically, and plumped himself down on the doorstep of the Lodging House. He was all bundled up from head to toe – no doubt the work of a worrying Mrs. Jacobs. He had big cloppy boots, and, by the looks of it, several jackets covering up several bunchy sweaters. He had thick woolen mittens, two scarves, and a knit hat pulled down to right above his eyes. The poor kid had to tilt his head all the way back just to be able to see Race standing above him.

"That Delancy boy … he stole my candy." Les kicked a chunk of snow a few feet away. "Boots broke me off half of a candy cane he got, but that Morris, he took it and pushed me in the snow."

Race tutted disapprovingly and sat down beside the boy. "Da Delancy's ain't no good. Sorry kid."

Les sniffled some more. "I tried to soak him, but he was a lot bigger than me …"

Race laughed at the Les's naivety. "Don't worry," he said, "I bet next time you'll get 'im good."

Les smiled.

"Anyhow," Race continued, lighting a cigarette, "Ya shouldn't be cryin'. Not so close tah Christmas an' all. You know dat."

"Why not?"

Race nearly choked on a mouthful of smoke. "Whatcha mean _'why not?'_ – Cause Santa Clause'll getcha nothin' fah Christmas!"

Les furrowed his eyebrows in a contemplative matter, and it was only making a face like this that Race had ever seen any resemblance between Les and his older brother David. The thought made Race smile to himself for just a second before explaining to the boy: "If ya ain't bein' a good boy, Santa Clause'll leave ya coal in ya stockin'."

But still, Les could not understand. He had never heard of _Saint Claws_ before.

Race rolled his eyes. "Les, c'mon kid, Santa Clause … ya gotta know who Santa Clause is."

Les shrugged, quite embarrassed now that there was just one more thing everyone in the world seemed to know but him.

Just then Blink walked up, an arm slung over Mush's broad shoulders. "Heya Les," they greeted, "What's goin' on, Race?"

Race looked up helplessly. "Dis kid ain't nevah hoid a' Santa Clause."

Blink's jaw dropped, and Mush shook his head. To the newsies, Santa Clause was like a god – if only for the fact that none of them had seen the man in years. And in their heads, they knew there was really no such thing as Santa Clause; but in their hearts, they still hoped that maybe one Christmas they'd wake up to a big lit up Christmas tree, all surrounded by brightly wrapped packages with bows. For Les – a good and proper boy with a good and proper house and good and proper parents – not to know who Santa Clause was, well, that was some sort of blasphemy.

Blink and Mush joined the group, and Blink smiled at Les. "Santa Clause," he said, "He lives at da North Pole an' drives a sleigh and brings kids presents on Christmas morning."

Les frowned. He had never gotten presents on Christmas morning. Why?

Mush was grinning ear to ear. "Yeah," he continued, "An' he wears all red an' has a big white beard an' when he laughs he says 'Ho ho ho!'"

Les chuckled. Mush's impression of a Santa Clause had been rather humorous, even if the thought of any man dressed in red coming into his house at night did scare Les a little.

"So dat's why ya can't be cryin' an' poutin' like dis. 'Cause he can see ya, right? He's watchin' ya all da time tah see if ya been naughty or nice. An' if ya been nice, ya get real good presents. But if ya been naughty, ya don't get nothin', just coal in ya stockin'." Race said all this in a very somber tone of voice, as if he were in a church.

To Les, this sounded very strange, who wasn't sure how this Santa Clause person would get coal into his stockings if he was wearing them … But he nodded, very seriously at Race all the same.

"So," Blink was concluding, "Just be careful, alright? 'Cause ya nevah know. Ya gotta watch how ya behave, cause Santa Clause, well, he sees ya all da time, even when ya think nobody's lookin'."

Les swallowed hard. That certainly sounded more frightening than anything.

Mush laughed, patting Les on the shoulder. "Don't worry Les, you're a good kid, huh? I'm shoah Santa'll be good tah ya. He'll bring ya all kinds a fun stuff – toy trains an' tin soldjahs, an' more candy canes den you'll evah be able tah eat."

At this, Les smiled. It made up for all the creepy Santa stuff to hear about all the toys and candy Santa stuff.

"So just keep on ya best behavior, right?" Mush nodded, "Cause he's comin' tah town real soon."

Les nodded – the incident with Morris and the candy cane wholly forgotten in light of new and better things to think about. The boy made a silent promise to himself right then and there to not pout ever again. He would even help his mom with the dishes when she asked him next time, hoping that Santa Clause would see that and take notice.

Just then, David and Jack found their way back home and saw everybody sitting outside. "Hey, what's goin' on?" Jack asked, "Are we havin' a party?"

Race chuckled, and went over to place a hand on David's shoulder. "I gots a bone tah pick with ya, Davey boy. Why is it ya nevah told Les heah about Santa Clause? What kinda childhood is dat?"

David looked from Race to Les and back to Race again. "A Jewish one," he replied evenly, only the slightest hint of a chuckle on his face.

Race raised an eyebrow and David laughed, "Race, we're Jewish. We don't even celebrate Christmas. We celebrate Hanukah."

Race looked extremely confused. And even though Les was disappointed that he would not get his toy trains and tin soldiers from _Santana Clothes_, he agreed to sit down with David and explain to his friends the finer points of Hanukah, just as Race had so patiently explained to him about the scary man in red with the Ho ho ho laughter.


	3. Skittery

**Disclaimer: Not mine, never mine ...**

_Author's Notes: I needed a story about snow, lol, sorry, but I love it. And living in Chicago, sometimes you'll have a Christmas where it's sixty degrees, and sometimes you get two feet of snow. This year is shaping up to be one of those snow-less Christmases, and I'm rather depressed. So here is a story about snow to fill the void, lol, and since this is a pretty generic plot, I could have used any newsie. My newsie of choice: Skittery. It's set in 1899, and Skittery is the same age as in the movie. I hope you like this, it's another happy-ish chapter. And review, cause I love those!_

_**I'm dreaming of a white Christmas  
Just like the ones I used to know.  
Where the treetops glisten,  
and children listen,  
To hear sleigh bells in the snow.**_

_**I'm dreaming of a white Christmas  
With every Christmas card I write.  
May your days be merry and bright,  
And may all your Christmases be white.**_

_**I'm dreaming of a white Christmas  
With every Christmas card I write.  
May your days be merry and bright,  
And may all your Christmases be white.**_

**_-I'm Dreaming Of A White Christmas-_**

Skittery was sitting at the windowsill, watching the sky. The clouds had rolled in, and the air was heavy. And yet, not a single snow flake had fallen, not yet this year. In Skittery's own personal opinion, the snow was the only part of the season he enjoyed. He'd never had any use for Santa Clause, merely because the jolly old man was not someone that often wasted his time on newsboys. And in the winter the day's got shorter, meaning less daylight to sell in. In the winter was when the most orphans flocked to the lodging house, begging Kloppman for a place to sleep, so there were never enough bunks for those who actually called the place home. All in all, Skittery thought, winter sucked.

Except for the snow. Obviously. The snow was just … well, perfect. Literally.

Just then a few tiny wisps floated past the window and Skittery perked ever so slightly. He pressed both hands against the windowpane, his breath fogging it all up.

"Damnit …" he muttered, using his sleeve to wipe away a circle of visibility.

But once he could see again, sure enough, there it was, the snow. Falling down and beginning to settle in between blades of grass, soon to be a full, soft blanket. Skittery smiled, watching as nature transformed itself. He could remember when he was a kid, being so excited about the snow. And come to think of it, he couldn't even really remember why. It was only snow, after all. Just like rain … colder, maybe. But nothing to get too excited about.

Perhaps it was the fact that his memories of snow coincided with his memories of when his mother was still alive, and they would spend their Christmases together in their tiny apartment in Queens. They were even poorer then than Skittery was now, and so there was never any tree, and never any presents. But there was always snow – that was the one thing that the bill collectors couldn't take from them. His mother would tell him that the snow was the only perfection left in the world. Before smiling and patting his head and saying, "Besides my little boy of course …"

Skittery pulled the blinds back down and ran outside, forgetting even his coat and grabbing only his boots. By the time he'd gotten out the door, the fall of snow had picked up threefold. The flakes were fat and round now, the size of dimes, and they were falling thick and fast. Skittery let it all fall around him, gathering in his hair. He shook it out like a dog and practically giggled.

"Whoa," said a voice nearby, "What didja smoke fah lunch Skitts?"

Skittery swiveled to find Racetrack trudging home after a long Saturday afternoon at the tracks. "Race!" he yelled, "Ain'tcha excited? Dis is da most snow we've got all year!"

Race rolled his eyes, but as he turned to go back inside, Skittery gathered a bit of snow between his two frost bitten hands and packed it tight, then proceeded to whip it at Race's retreating back.

Race tensed as the snow melted at the back of his neck and slid its way under his collar and down his spine, freezing each vertebra as it went.

"God _damn_ you, Skittery!" Race swore, turning back around, dropping his satchel and lunging at his friend. Skittery yelled in excitement and ran for his life.

It wasn't long before Mush poked his head out the door and saw the pair wrestling in the snow, which had accumulated by now to a good amount. He called to the rest of the boys, and Race and Skittery's snow scuffle soon became a snow war.

Skittery gasped as Blink snuck up on him from behind and jammed a handful of snow down the back of his shirt. He laughed excitedly, but stood for just a moment before running after to retaliate. He let the snow fall onto his eyelashes as he looked up towards the stormy sky. Memories of his mother flashed across his vision. And sure, maybe those loving moments in their old apartment while the snow fell outside the windows were really gone. But there would always be these moments, like now, with his friends all around, when all you could hear was laughter. And if there was snow, then everything would be alright. As long as he had this little bit of perfection each year, this white Christmas, then he could be happy again.

_A/N: Short, I know. But I hope I caught the feeling of those careless snow-days we all loved as children and seem to still love, even as we grow up, though we don't know quite why. So if you love snow, you should review! LoL, there's logic there, I promise._


	4. SpecsDutchy

**Disclaimer: I don't own the Newsies, nor do I own Mariah Carey.**

_Author's Notes: So I've always liked Specs and Dutchy stories, even if I didn't like them in the movie that much. I wanted to write a couple I never had before, so this is it. To me, Specs and Dutchy aren't like other couples. They don't have troubling relationships, or tragic ones, they are just plain cute. They're that seventh grade romance that's all "I like you ... I think I like you like ... You like me like me too?" Kiss kiss kiss. Mhm, lol, that's right. But that's just my interpretation. So here it is, Specs and Dutchy. It's the same time, same ages as in the movie, done to "All I Want For Christmas Is You" - always been sort of a guilty pleasure Christmas song of mine. You know you really shouldn't like it ... but you can't help it, lol. No offense meant to any Mariah Carey fans, promise. So read and enjoy. More cuteness to you, Merry Christmas lol._

_**I don't want a lot for Christmas  
There is just one thing I need  
I don't care about presents  
Underneath the Christmas tree  
I just want you for my own  
More than you could ever know  
Make my wish come true ...  
All I want for Christmas  
Is you ...**_

_**I don't want a lot for Christmas  
There is just one thing I need  
I don't care about presents  
Underneath the Christmas tree  
I don't need to hang my stocking  
There upon the fireplace  
Santa Claus won't make me happy  
With a toy on Christmas day  
**_

_**I just want you for my own  
More than you could ever know  
Make my wish come true  
All I want for Christmas is you ...  
You baby  
**_

_**I won't ask for much this Christmas  
I won't even wish for snow  
I'm just gonna keep on waiting  
Underneath the mistletoe  
I won't make a list and send it  
To the North Pole for Saint Nick  
I won't even stay awake to  
hear those magic reindeer click  
**_

_**'Cause I just want you here tonight  
Holding onto me so tight  
What more can I do  
Baby all I want for Christmas is you  
You ...**_

_**All the lights are shining  
So brightly everywhere  
And the sound of children's  
Laughter fills the air  
And everyone is singing  
I hear those sleigh bells ringing  
Santa won't you bring me the one  
I really need - won't you please  
Bring my baby to me ...**_

_**Oh I don't want a lot for Christmas  
This is all I'm asking for  
I just want to see my baby  
Standing right outside my door  
Oh I just want him for my own  
More than you could ever know  
Make my wish come true  
Baby all I want for Christmas  
Is you ...**_

**_-All I Want For Christmas Is You-_**

"Ya evah get jealous a' couples like dem?"

Dutchy looked up from the window miserably. "Huh?" he asked, "Whatcha tawkin' about?"

Specs chuckled. "Well, from da way ya lookin' out dere, I dunno, ya just look so sad."

"Maybe," Dutchy sighed, "Sometimes I just wish I had someone like dat. 'Specially around Christmas. Why is is people gotta be all lovey-dovey around Christmas, huh? Kissin' undah da mistletoe, an' holdin' hands out in da snow. It's sick."

" … In an adorable, you so want dat, sorta way, huh?" Specs teased.

Dutchy turned and gave Specs a horribly sad face. His eyes were cloudy and his lips were a deep frown. "Yeah …" he whined.

Specs leaned over and took a look out the window. Sure enough, Dutchy had been watching the guiltiest culprits of all when it came to obscene public displays of affection: Jack and David. Currently, Jack had David pushed up against a wall in the late evening air, and was gazing at him with that look that usually made Specs sick. David was glancing both ways, hastily checking that no one was watching them – but Jack didn't care. He was holding both David's hands, and kissing his frost bitten nose.

"Ugh," Specs groaned, "Yeah … I can see how dat'd put a frown on anyone's face."

Dutchy sighed again – that hopeless sigh he so often employed as a hopeless romantic he tended to be. Specs was ready to sigh himself. Couldn't Dutchy see what was right in front of his face? There _was_ someone he could be holding hands with in the snow and kissing under the mistletoe. Specs himself would be more than willing to be that person. But of course … Dutchy was far too busy being sorry for himself to even notice.

Specs sighed and draped an arm over Dutchy's shoulder. "C'mon," he said, "Best not tah be caught spyin'."

Dutchy nodded and the two found themselves playing a rather intense game of checkers a few moments later, just to pass the time. Almost everyone else was out, doing one thing or another: shopping, getting a late supper, visiting friends in other boroughs, secretly holding the hand of a certain secret lover …

"Ya think I'll evah have somethin' like dat?" Dutchy asked miserably while Specs jumped him and took one of his pieces.

Specs shrugged, not letting his eyes leave the gameboard. "I think so."

"Well …" Dutchy continued, his focus hardly on the game at all. "I jus' dunno. Why does Davey and Jacky-boy get tah have it all now, an' not me? Maybe I jus' nevah will …"

Specs was concentrating hard on the move he was about to make, but Dutchy's constant whining was really distracting.

"An' it jus' ain't fair, ya know? I'm a good guy, I think. Whatcha think? Am I good enuff guy tah get somebody tah love me like Dave loves Jacky boy?"

Specs sighed, trying to remember what move he had been planning a second ago, before listening to Dutchy again and forgetting.

"I know I'm bein' a baby. But I can't help it, not around Christmas time like dis. I jus' get so lonely, ya know?"

"Dutch!" Specs yelled, finally fed up. "Are we playin' or ain't we? 'Cause I can't do a damn thing with ya whinin' dat way …"

Dutchy's eyes were all filled with sadness again as he gazed across the table. "Sorry …" he whined, and Specs went on to make his move.

There was silence then, as Dutchy sat pouting. This too got to Specs within moments, and still he could not concentrate on the game. With a yell of frustration he said, "Dat don't mean ya can't tawk, ya know."

Dutchy looked confused, "But ya jus' said …"

"I know what I said!" Specs cried. He ran a hand through his hair and knocked the checker board off the table in frustration. Pieces went flying everywhere and Dutchy jumped back in surprise.

"Specs?" he asked.

Specs glanced out the window back towards where he knew Jack and David were still flirting, then prepared to really make his move.

"Look, Dutch, how long we been friends now?"

Dutchy shrugged, "Since I can remembah, I guess."

Specs nodded, "Yeah," he said, "An' dere's somethin' I nevah toldja in all dose years."

Dutchy cocked his head, "Well, what is it?"

Specs sighed. "Ya sit heah tawkin' about how ya want someone tah love fah Christmas. An' I dunno if I can give someone fah you tah love, but I can give ya someone dat loves you …"

Specs had felt sure that this would get his point across, but on the contrary. Dutchy looked just as confused as ever. "Whatcha tawkin' about, Specs?"

Specs groaned and met the eyes of the boy he knew he'd had a thing for since they were like seven ... "I dunno about you, Dutch, but all I want fah Christmas … is you."

And while the snow fell outside and the fire crackled within, Dutchy came to realize that there _was_ someone for him, and he could have all that he had wanted before: a hand to hold in the snow, and lips to kiss in the cold. And Specs, as he kissed Dutchy's cheek sweetly, came to understand just how precious Christmas wishes really were. Especially when they came true...

_A/N: Had enough cuteness yet? LoL, well too bad - there's much more to come. I only wrote maybe two or three not cute stories for this whole series, lol, so get ready. Anyhow, hope you liked my take on the infamous Specs and Dutchy. And, of course, if you did ... You know what to do._


	5. Spot

**Disclaimer: I don't own Spot, or any other naughty little boy like him.**

_Author's Notes: First and foremost - what happened the all the reviews for the last chapter? It made me sad, cause there were none. Not even one. Hm, I hope I didn't scare you all away. Anyhow, this next chapter is Spot, and he is a little boy Spot, and it's set modern day. I hope you like it - it took me forever to decide what song to use for Spot, he's a difficult character to work with when doing a Christmas story. Please review this time? I cried myself to sleep last night. No joke._

**_I broke my bat on Johnny's head;_**

**_Somebody snitched on me._**

**_I hid a frog in sister's bed;_**

**_Somebody snitched on me._**

**_I spilled some ink on Mommy's rug;_**

**_I made Tommy eat a bug;_**

**_Bought some gum with a penny slug;_**

**_Somebody snitched on me._**

****

**_Oh, I'm gettin' nuttin' for Christmas_**

**_Mommy and Daddy are mad._**

**_I'm getting nuttin' for Christmas_**

**_'Cause I ain't been nuttin' but bad._**

****

**_I put a tack on teacher's chair_**

**_somebody snitched on me._**

**_I tied a knot in Susie's hair_**

**_somebody snitched on me._**

**_I did a dance on Mommy's plants_**

**_climbed a tree and tore my pants_**

**_Filled the sugar bowl with ants_**

**_somebody snitched on me._**

****

**_So, I'm gettin' nuttin' for Christmas_**

**_Mommy and Daddy are mad._**

**_I'm gettin' nuttin' for Christmas_**

**_'Cause I ain't been nuttin' but bad._**

****

**_I won't be seeing Santa Claus;_**

**_Somebody snitched on me._**

**_He won't come visit me because_**

**_Somebody snitched on me._**

**_Next year I'll be going straight;_**

**_Next year I'll be good, just wait_**

**_I'd start now, but it's too late;_**

**_Somebody snitched on me._**

****

**_So you better be good whatever you do_**

**_'Cause if you're bad, I'm warning you,_**

**_You'll get nuttin' for Christmas._**

**_-I'm Gettin' Nuttin' For Christmas-_**

_Monday:_

"Shawn _Doyle_ Conlon! What were you _thinking_ hitting little Johnny McCormick with that bat?" a shrill woman's voice sounded.

An eight year old boy with sandy hair and piercing blue eyes turned his bored gaze on the woman who'd addressed him. Then he frowned, making an angry little fist. "Who snitched?" he asked.

But his mother simply shook her head, picking him up by the armpits and set him down in the direction of his room. "Go on, you're grounded!"

Shawn stomped his foot menacingly but did as he was told. Plopping down on his bed. Whoever snitched, they would get it. Shawn would make sure of that. He could only be thankful that no one snitched about the bug he had slipped in between his older sister's sheets…

Before he could even get the thought out, a scream came from down the hall. Shawn laughed a little, deciding it was okay if he got in trouble for that one, just because he'd got her good. And the last thing he needed to worry about today, of course, was the ink on Mommy's –

"_Shawn_!" his mom screamed.

Shawn straightened up, awaiting his mother's arrival. And sure enough, a moment later, his mother was in his doorway, her face a nasty, nasty shade of purple-red. "Shawn, _why_ do you do these things?"

Shawn shrugged a bit. "Because it's fun," he mumbled.

"It's fun!?" Mrs. Conlon yelled. "You just wait till your father gets home, young man. You had better watch yourself or Santa isn't going to stop at our house this year. Do you understand?"

Shawn shrugged again, and Mrs. Conlon rolled her eyes and slammed the door. What she didn't see was the wicked little grin that spread over Shawn's face after she had left.

_Tuesday:_

"Shawn Doyle! Front and center!" This time it was a man's voice that boomed down the hallway. Shawn picked himself up and dragged his feet to the living room where his father was standing, still in his work clothes. "What's this I hear about putting a tack on your teacher's chair? Or how about the knot you tied in Suzie O'Malley's hair?"

Shawn gave his father his token shoulder shrug and left it at that.

Mr. Conlon fumed, "And I head about how you filled sugar bowl with ants. Is that all I should be mad about?"

Shawn, who was just as mad, responded. "No! I did a dance on Mommy's plants!" and stuck out his tongue.

… He got quite a spanking for that one.

_Wednesday, Christmas Eve:_

Shawn sat pacing his room. He was actually contemplating something he never had before: possibly being good. And it wasn't his fault that people always snitched on him. He just liked to have fun, and that would be just fine if stupid people didn't snitch. But now, if he wasn't good, Santa Clause wasn't going to be coming to his house.

Shawn pulled his teddy bear out from under his pillow. "Teddy," he complained, "it ain't fair."

Shawn left a space in which he was sure his Teddy bear had responded.

"It ain't fair because now I'm gettin' nuttin' for Christmas."

Shawn again paused, imagining his Teddy bear's empathetic nod.

"And now Mommy and Daddy are real mad." Shawn sat for a few minutes, thinking over his situation. He could try and be good? But that meant that the frog he'd just left in the fridge he might have to go and take back. But he was grounded, so maybe it was already too late for good.

"I'm gettin' nuttin' for Christmas," Shawn sighed again, talking to his Teddy, "Cause I ain't been nothin' but bad."

_Thursday: Christmas_

When Christmas morning dawned, Shawn threw his covers back and Teddy watched as the boy ran down the hallway. Teddy listened to the boys footsteps pound down the stairs and come to the Christmas tree.

But no tearing of wrapping paper followed. Instead the sound of slow, sad footsteps made their way back to the bedroom. Shawn sighed in the doorway and went and sat next to his Teddy,

"Hey," he said, getting very serious all of a sudden. "You better be careful, Teddy, cause they were right. An' I'm warnin' you. If you're bad, you get nuttin' for Christmas."

Shawn frowned at Teddy once more quite sadly before saying, "And I got nuttin' for Christmas …"


	6. JackDavid

**Disclaimer: It's not mine, it's not mine, it's not mine.**

_Author's Notes: This is Jack and David - set modern day, and the boys are the same age as in the movie. I hope you enjoy the Jack and David cuteness, I was going for cuddly with this chapter, even if it's not one of my favorites. So please review, you guys have been slacking, lol, and remember there is a prize for the best reviewer. Yay, Merry Christmas!_

**_Oh the weather outside is frightful,  
But the fire is so delightful,  
And since we've no place to go,  
Let It Snow! Let It Snow! Let It Snow!_**

**_It doesn't show signs of stopping,  
And I've bought some corn for popping,  
The lights are turned way down low,  
Let It Snow! Let It Snow! Let It Snow!_**

**_When we finally kiss goodnight,  
How I'll hate going out in the storm!  
But if you'll really hold me tight,  
All the way home I'll be warm._**

**_The fire is slowly dying,  
And, my dear, we're still good-bying,  
But as long as you love me so,  
Let It Snow! Let It Snow! Let It Snow!_**

**_-Let It Snow-_**

"And it's still coming down out there," buzzed the voice on the radio. "An estimated twelve inches by morning. Those in the Manhattan area, who are expected to get hit with the worst of this storm, are already stocking up and settling in for the next few days. Keep your snow shovels handy, folks, this looks like it's gonna be a big one. Keep safe, keep warm, and remember to keep tuning into WNYC for the latest weather updates every hour, on the hour."

Jack flipped off the radio and flopped down beside David with a sigh. Glancing towards the window, he knew the DJ was right. The snow flurries of the afternoon had picked up, and now the fall of snow was thick. On top of the several inches of snow already on the ground, they were going to get another foot?

He and David had been sitting in Davids' parents' living room with a blazing fire for the last six hours – watching movies and playing cards – anything to make the time pass. The rest of the Jacobs family was visiting some relative for the holidays, but David had opted out of that trip, using the ever-plausible excuse that he had "too much homework". Now Jack was beginning to get a little nervous. It was a hellish walk as it was, all the way back to his apartment, but in a blizzard?

"Dave, maybe I should get goin'. It's gettin' pretty bad out there?"

David's face fell. "No …" he whined, wrapping his arms around Jack's shoulders.

Jack chuckled. "But I got like fifteen blocks to walk. And if I don't leave now, I won't be able to get home until tomorrow morning …"

David grinned a wicked mischievous grin. "And what would be so wrong with that?"

Jack shook his head. "Ya remember what happened last time I stayed the night, doncha?"

David giggled, "Well Sarah will never come in my room without knocking again …"

Jack smiled too, remembering that night. But a second glance out the window made his smile disappear. He was really not looking forward to going outside, especially now that it was after dark. But he'd been putting it off for the last hour and a half. "Davey, it's really bad out …"

"But look," David whined, "Look how nice the fire is in here. You don't want to go out in that, do you? It's so nice here, and I could make you more cocoa…"

"Is this a bribe?" Jack raised his eyebrows.

"It could be. Is it working?"

Jack smiled that smile that David fell for every single time. "I suppose it is. Maybe just a little longer."

Jack enwrapped David in his arms and the two cuddled beside the fire for another twenty minutes at least. "Davey …" Jack whispered, watching the snow pile up outside the window. "Davey … I've really got to go."

Finally David consented, helping Jack bundle up and bracing himself against the chill in the air as they opened the door together. Just as an enormous gust of wind blew the door out of David's grip and it slammed against the wall, knocking several pictures down. Jack hugged his jacket tighter around him and David asked, "You're sure you want to go?"

Jack grimaced, "It'll only get worse the later I stay." And with that, he leaned down and gave David one last quick kiss on the side of the mouth before hurrying away down the drive.

David sighed and waved to Jack's Eskimo-esque figured and turned back inside, shutting the door tight behind him. Just then the phone rang and David ran to the kitchen to grab it.

"Hello?"

"David, honey, it's mom. I'm afraid we're going to be stuck at your Aunt Ruth's until tomorrow afternoon at least. This storm is really hitting hard. So don't worry about us, alright? Just make sure you lock the door and keep yourself warm okay? And we will see you tomorrow around supper time."

David smiled to himself, although he knew his parents' detainment at his Aunts' really shouldn't have made him that happy. "Sure Mom, just stay there until it's safe to come home alright? Don't worry about me."

"Alright, buh bye dear."

"Bye." And David slammed the phone down, running back into the living room. One glance out the window told him Jack had already covered significant ground and was out of sight. So as fast as he could, David managed to pull on a thick pair of gloves, boots, and a coat and scarf, and took a deep breath before plunging into the arctic cold outside his warm home. The cold hit him like tiny pinpricks attacking any bit of exposed skin. His cheeks were under the worst siege of all, almost immediately. He let out an audible moan and trudged forward, bound and determined to catch Jack as soon as possible.

Just as he rounded the corner, he could see there in the distance the hunched figure of his lover. "Jack!" he called, "Jack, wait!"

Jack glanced over his shoulder and his mouth fell open. "Dave!" he cried as he ran back to him, his boots making it a very slow process indeed. "What're ya doin'?"

David smiled under his scarf. "My mom called!" he yelled over the roar of the winter wind. It was all gray and frozen out, blustery and blowing. "She's staying the night with my Aunt Ruth. I have the house to myself. You _can_ stay!"

Jack's smile actually warmed David a little, even out in the below zero temperatures. Jack grabbed David's hand and the two of the ran back to the Jacobs' home.

An hour later, the winter clothes had been stripped, and Jack and David were lying on a few blankets they had laid out before the fire, sipping hot chocolate and eating popcorn. The lights were all off, and Jack was gazing at David in the firelight.

When David noticed, his face began to flush and he turned towards the window. Watching the snow come down he chuckled, "And you wanted to leave …"

Jack smiled and scooted closer to David. After a gentle kiss, he laid back on the blankets, putting his hands behind his head. "Yeah, but here I've got hot cocoa, hot popcorn, and a hot boyfriend …" he laughed, "Let it snow."

"Right now, I am perfectly warm, so let it snow," Jack shrugged.

David leaned down and kissed the end of Jack's nose, and Jack smiled. "I'm in love," he said, "Let it snow."


	7. Sarah

**Disclaimer: Not mine, boo.**

_Author's Notes: This is Sarah's chapter, and the lyrics to the poem, not song, aren't included in the very beginning because the entirety of the poem is read throughout the chapter. It's the same time and place as the movie, set to "Twas The Night Before Christmas" ... _

The show was coming down hard. Crutchy pulled back the curtains and let out a whistle. "It's really comin' down out dere," he said, shaking his head.

Jack nodded and looked at the three Jacobs children all standing around idly. "Sorry guys," he said, "But I dunno if ya gettin' outta heah any time soon."

David shook his head and stripped off his coat and mittens, plopping down in a lumpy armchair. Mush sat down across from him and smiled warmly. "Ah, don't be mad, Dave. Dis just means ya get tah spend more time with us."

David groaned. "But we always spend Christmas Eve at home."

Les kicked the ground miserably, "We even get to open one present tonight."

Jack shrugged, "Well dere ain't no way ya goin' out in dis weather."

Sarah took off her hat and set it beside her purse on the table. "Jack's right," she said to her brother. "We'll freeze before we can get anywhere near home."

Racetrack hopped down the stairs, skipping the last two and striding over to where the friends were all staring out the window with hopeless expressions on their faces. He peered around a little bit and chuckled to himself and asked, "Did somebody die? Whatcha doin'?"

David sighed without bothering to look in Race's direction, "We aren't going to be able to get home tonight, and it's Christmas Eve," he said sadly.

Jack nodded, "Dey're all upset dey ain't gettin' presents tahnight."

Race frowned, "What, we ain't fun enough fah ya?"

Sarah shook her head, "It's not that. But we spend Christmas Eve the same way every year, and now we won't get to."

Mush tried to smile, "Well, what do ya do? Maybe we could do it heah instead?"

Les looked skeptical for a moment but then nodded vigorously. "Yeah," he grinned, "Yeah, Davey! We could have Christmas Eve here!"

David shrugged. "Well," he said, "We have a big dinner and bake cookies and read The Night Before Christmas."

Jack looked around the dirty Lodging House. He jogged over to a small pantry and pulled out a box of graham crackers and a half drank, week old bottle of root beer. He placed them on the table before David and shrugged. "Big dinnah," he offered, grinning.

David gave him a clearly unsatisfied look, but Jack just laughed. "Oh," he said, "An' we ain't got no cookies, so the dinnah'll hafta do."

Racetrack laughed out loud at Jack's behavior, but Mush piped up then. "What was it ya always used tah read?"

Sarah glanced in Mush's direction. "The Night Before Christmas," she said.

Mush nodded, "I think I got dat one."

Everyone looked at Mush – he had never seemed the bookish type. Mush shrugged. "When I used a' be in the orphanage, the nuns would read it to us around Christmas time. When I left, well, I liked it so much …"

Blink grinned, clapping Mush on the shoulder. "He stole it!" Blink laughed.

The other boys chuckled as well, trying to imagine Mush, of all people, pilfering a book, of all things.

Mush looked like he might have blushed a little under his coffee-colored skin, and hurried up to his bedroom to retrieve said book. When he came back down he set it on the table in front of Sarah. Sarah smiled and picked it up. It was a book of a bunch of different Christmas poems, and Sarah quickly found the one she was looking for.

"Read it!" Les called, sitting cross-legged on the floor before Sarah. Sarah shook her head sadly.

"Les, I don't think anyone wants –"

"No, c'mon," Jack said, sitting next to Sarah and placing a kiss on her cheek. "Read it. I ain't nevah hoid the night befoah Christmas …"

Sarah smiled and let the book rest on her knees. "Well …" she said.

Crutchy settled himself in a chair as well, soon followed by Mush. Race watched the rest of them and found a place on the floor next to Les. "Alright," he groaned, "Might as well. Can't say as it'll keep me attention fah very long though …"

Jack laughed, "Race, nothin' keeps ya attention very long."

Race shot Jack a dirty look and Sarah settled in to begin reading.

_**"It was the night before Christmas, and all through the house,**_

_**Not a creature was stirring, not even a mouse.**_

_**The stockings were hung by the chimney with care,**_

_**In hopes that St. Nick would soon be there –"**_

"St. Nick?" Race asked, cocking an eyebrow.

"Santa Clause," Sarah said sweetly, more than happy to help her underprivileged friends understand the finer details of Christmas they may not have gotten as children. "He brings kids presents on Christmas Eve."

Race looked confused, "Why?"

"Because it's Christmas, Race, now be quiet," David groaned irritably.

Sarah continued: _**"The children were nestled, all snug in their beds,**_

_**While visions of sugar-plums danced in their heads-"**_

_**A curious chuckle from Racetrack, but Sarah ignored it.**_

_**"And Mama in her 'kerchief, and I in my cap,**_

_**Had just settled down for a long winter's nap.**_

_**When out on the lawn there arose such a clatter,**_

_**I sprang from the bed to see what was the matter.**_

_**Away to the window I flew like a flash,**_

_**Tore open the shutters and threw back the sash.**_

_**The moon on the breast of the new-fallen snow,**_

_**Gave the luster of mid-day to objects below.**_

_**When, what to my wondering eyes should appear,**_

_**But a miniature sleigh, and eight tiny reindeer.**_

_**With a little old driver, so lively and quick,**_

_**I knew in a moment it must be St. Nick-"**_

"Dis guy's outside her house?" Race asked incredulously. Jack slapped the back of his head.

"Will ya can it already?"

"Yeah," Les said, "it's just getting to the good part."

Race smiled, if only for Les's sake, and allowed Sarah to go on.

**_"More rapid than eagles, his courses, they came,_**

**_And he whistled, and shouted, and called them by name."_**

This next part, Les heard with bright eyes, mouthing the words as Sarah read them aloud, having memorized each and every one:

**_"'Now Dasher, now Dancer, now Prancer and Vixen,_**

**_On Comet, on Cupid, on Donner and Blitzen!_**

**_To the top of the porch, to the top of the wall,_**

**_Now dash away, dash away, dash away all!'_**

**_As dry leaves that before the wild hurricane fly,_**

**_When they meet with an obstacle, mount to the sky._**

**_So up to the house-top the courses they flew,_**

**_With the sleigh full of toys and St. Nicholas too.-"_**

"An' now he's on top a' da house?!" Race exclaimed, throwing up his hands. Why couldn't anyone else understand how very frightening this story really was?

Jack gave Race a look and mocked: "Do we gots tah ask ya tah leave da room, Race?"

Race made an obscene gesture in Jack's direction, and Sarah made sure to divert her eyes and read right over Race's matching obscene comments:

**_"And then, in a twinkling, I heard on the roof_**

**_The prancing and pawing of each little hoof._**

**_As I drew in my hand, and was turning around,_**

**_Down the chimney St. Nicholas came with a bound._**

**_He was dressed all in fur, from his head to his foot,_**

**_And his clothes were all tarnished with ashes and soot;_**

**_A bundle of toys he had flung on his back,_**

**_And he looked like a peddler just opening his pack._**

**_His eyes -- how they twinkled! his dimples how merry!_**

**_His cheeks were like roses, his nose like a cherry!_**

**_His droll little mouth was drawn up like a bow,_**

**_And the beard of his chin was as white as the snow;_**

**_The stump of a pipe he held tight in his teeth,_**

**_And the smoke it encircled his head like a wreath;_**

**_He had a broad face and a little round belly,_**

**_That shook, when he laughed like a bowlful of jelly._**

**_He was chubby and plump, a right jolly old elf,_**

**_And I laughed when I saw him, in spite of myself.-"_**

"Dis is all too much fah me," Race protested, standing up. "Merry Christmas tah da rest a you – all I'm gettin' fah Christmas now is nightmares …" He continued mumbling all the way out the door, making his friends laugh.

Sarah smiled and kept reading:

**_"A wink of his eye and a twist of his head,_**

**_Soon gave me to know I had nothing to dread;_**

**_He spoke not a word, but went straight to his work,_**

**_And filled all the stockings; then turned with a jerk,_**

**_And laying his finger aside of his nose,_**

**_And giving a nod, up the chimney he rose;_**

**_He sprang to his sleigh, to his team gave a whistle,_**

**_And away they all flew like the down of a thistle."_**

At this point, all three Jacob's children looked at each other with enormous grins on their faces, knowing their favorite part of the poem was here. And saying it would bring in Christmas for good:

_**"But I heard him exclaim, 'ere he rode out of sight,"**_ they all chanted in unison.

Then all the friends smiled in Les's direction as the tiny boy stood and yelled to everyone in the room: **_"Merry Christmas to all, and to all a goodnight!"_**


	8. SpotRace

**_Disclaimer:_ Not my newsies, not my song.**

_Author's Notes: So this is another one of those songs that I love, even though it's pretty cheesy, lol. And this is a story I've been dying to do for a while, so I thought the Christmas atmosphere might give it a nice touch. I tried to make it as cute as possible, and you can tell me if I've succeeded, deal? This is modern day, and I tried to make the characters a few years older than they are in the movie._

_PS - I have received some negative comments - not only in this story but in others as well - about slash. I respect that not everyone can have the same beliefs on certain topics, and that is fine by me. But I don't appreciate being critisized for it, anymore than I'm sure those who have a problem with it would appreciate being critisized for their close-mindedness. So please, if you don't like slash, don't read those particular stories - you don't need to read something you don't like for the sole purpose of bad-mouthing it when you're through, because I could do without those reviews. I know this is a little random in the middle of my Christmas series here, but I just wanted to make a stand that I adore slash and I think those that have a problem with it really should learn to be more open. Thanks for listening to my rantings, I just really have a low tolerance forrudeness, and I really appreciate those of you who are open to slash, and even those of you who aren't, but review my work based on style rather than content in those instances where my stories involve slash. I thank those of you for your kind words, and for those of you to whom this extremely long author's note is adressed, please, your ignorant comments are neither called for, nor are they welcome._

**_The snow is falling, the city is white_**

**_Your eyes are shining like diamonds tonight_**

**_And we're all alone, there's no one home_**

**_You're finally in my arms again_**

**_The night is silent, the moment is here_**

**_I couldn't ask for more than having you near_**

**_'Cause I love you, and I always will_**

**_And now I know the moment is right_**

**_The moment is right_**

**_'Cause I've been waiting to give this gift tonight_**

**_I'm down on my knees, there's no better time_**

**_It's something to last for as long as you live_**

**_Tonight, I'm gonna give you_**

**_All my heart can give._**

**_I thought I'd give you something shiny and new_**

**_I tried to find something worthy of you_**

**_But I realized when I looked inside_**

**_There's some things that money can't buy_**

**_I feel the magic whenever you're near_**

**_I feel it even on this time of the year_**

**_'Cause I love you, I always will_**

**_'Cause I've been waiting to give this gift tonight_**

**_I'm down on my knees, there's no better time_**

**_It's something to last for as long as you live_**

**_Tonight, I'm gonna give you_**

**_All my heart can give._**

**_-This Gift- 98 Degrees_**

Spot was pacing his living room, checking the clock every few seconds, just to make sure the hands weren't playing tricks on him, and it was still the time it had said it was … thirty seconds ago. Nothing had ever been this nerve-wrecking. Again he checked that the furniture was exactly as he wanted it. The tree that he and Race had decorated was standing tall in the corner, a shining star on the top. Race, who was very catholic, had tried to argue that on top of their tree was supposed to be an angel. But Spot had merely laughed at that. Everyone in their right mind knew that it was supposed to be a star. The star was simpler, it was prettier. It was all around better – and no tree of Spot Conlon's would have an angel on top.

But anyway, so the tree was there, with the star, and the table was all set with wine glasses and these nice silver candle sticks that Spot had "borrowed" from Mrs. Jacobs. Dinner was in the oven – a lovely spread of chicken parmesan and for dessert, Race's favorite: cheesecake, with cherries on top of course. And then, in a little side table drawer beside the couch in the living room, there was the most important piece of tonight. Spot checked one last time to make sure it was still there. Sure enough, there was the little black velvet box, sitting there looking harmless.

Spot had mulled over what he was about to do countless times, perhaps trying to talk himself out of it. But there was just no getting around the fact that Race was who he loved, and he couldn't see himself ever loving anyone else.

Race had promised to come over tonight after he had gone to visit his parents. This was their tradition every Christmas Eve – family first, and then they would see each other. They always spent the night wrapped in each other's arms, and it was tonight that they would exchange gifts – preferring to just sleep in on Christmas morning, go to a late mass and then out to lunch. Spot wouldn't even have gone to mass if Race didn't make him, but they'd stopped having _that_ argument a while back.

They'd been living together nearly four years now – this would be their third Christmas. And even though in high school, Spot had had a "two month" rule, and in college he'd always dumped the other person before "I love you's" could be exchanged, Race seemed above and beyond any of these personal limits. Race was above and beyond anyone he'd ever met. Tonight, with the snow falling outside, Spot would prove it.

Just then Race came in, stamping his boots and shaking snow out of his hair, looking cold and miserable. Spot slammed the drawer closed and rushed over to give his boyfriend a welcome-home kiss.

Race smiled despite being damp and freezing, "What's this?" he asked, looking over Spot's shoulder at the table set for two. "Don't tell me you cooked …" Then he made a face, as if he were disgusted, but he was still smiling, so the face came out rather lopsided and strange looking.

Spot chuckled, "I mighta," he said, "Just c'mon, you'll like it, I promise."

And so Race sat and Spot served him dinner, and although Spot had been nervous to begin with, his nerves calmed as Race kept smiling. When dinner was all through, and Race had devoured his dessert, he sat back in his chair, holding his stomach. "Shawn, that was delicious. I don't know when you learned to cook, but it was wonderful…"

Spot smiled and said, "I'll be right back," very mysteriously. Race nodded, too full to care much where Spot was going. But a moment later, pale hands were covering his eyes and he jumped. "Shawn!" he yelled, "What're you doing?"

Spot chuckled, "Abducting you," he said, and then laughed. "C'mon, we're going outside." Spot dropped Race's coat in his lap, and Race was forced to pull it on again while his eyes were still covered. Then Spot walked very cautiously out the front door and down the block to where there was this retention pond type thing. Not the most romantic setting, but if he went to the park there were bound to be all kinds of little kids running around in the snow. Race still had his eyes covered and was beginning to get a little anxious.

"I really am being abducted," he whined, "Where are you taking me?"

Spot just laughed and finally said, "Okay, I am going to take my hands off your eyes, but you still can't look yet, understand?"

Race nodded his consent and Spot let go, doing a little dance in front of Race to make sure his eyes really were still closed. He nodded decidedly and pulled out his "supplies."

This included the little black box, a little blue plastic jar of bubbles, and a Christmas card that told Race he loved him, and also had a little note card with places for Race to put a check mark next to "Yes" or next to "No", whichever he should happen to choose when Spot gave him the little black box. He had seen the bubble thing on a movie once, and had been dying to try it every since. He wasn't really the romantic one in the relationship, but Race was, and so he knew it was something his boyfriend would enjoy.

He placed the card in Tony's hand and said "Not yet, not yet." Then he unscrewed the top of the bubbles and dipped the wand in, blowing bubbles as fast as he could, so that when he said "Open!", Race gasped at what he saw.

All around him were these shiny, perfect bubbles, frozen now in the December air. Race caught one and it was a little perfect ice sphere in his hands, so delicate between his fingers.

"Go on, open the card," Spot urged.

And so Race opened the car which just said very generic things like "Merry Christmas" and "I love you" but then had also the note card with the little box next to the word "Yes" and the little box next to the word "No" but no other writing at all. And while Race was wondering at this, Spot sunk to one knee and extracted the infamous black velvet box.

So when Race looked up from the card, ready to ask what the note card was all about, his eyes met the sight of his boyfriend, kneeling in the snow, holding out a black velvet box … inside of which gleamed a gold band. A ring.

Race thought he could have fallen over. If his boots, at nearly half his body weight, hadn't been anchoring him to the ground, he was sure he would have. As it was, he could only stand, his breath coming in short gasps, creating a heavy mist among the shimmering frozen bubbles.

"Tony," Spot said softly, "You've never been an easy person to buy for …"

Race chuckled, feeling the tears building.

"But I think this year … I might've finally got you just the right thing."

The bubbles were still falling among the snow, drifting along in all their frozen perfection, and Race was completely immobilized. Never in a million years had he thought Spot would be the one to propose.

Race fell on his knees beside Spot and took his face in his hands, kissing him with all the passion he could find. When they broke apart, neither one feeling the December cold any longer, Spot grinned. "The card," he said, "You didn't check the card. How will I know what you decide unless you-"

Race grabbed Spot again, and this time pinned him to the ground among the fallen ice bubbles. Somehow, even though the note card lay forgotten, Spot thought that it might be a yes. That this year, finally, he had gotten the perfect gift.


	9. Jack

**Disclaimer: I do not own Jack Kelly, sadly enough.**

_Author's Notes: This is Jack's story, set in the same time as the movie to the tune of "I'll Be Home For Christmas". It's short, sorry about that, but I hope you enjoy it anyhow. This was a good idea to begin with, but I'm not sure if I portrayed it as I would've liked. But I hope you enjoy anyhow! And review, please._

**_I'll be home for Christmas;  
You can count on me.  
Please have snow and mistletoe  
And presents on the tree._**

**_Christmas Eve will find me  
Where the love-light gleams.  
I'll be home for Christmas  
If only in my dreams._**

**_I'll be home for Christmas;  
You can count on me.  
Please have snow and mistletoe  
And presents on the tree.  
Christmas Eve will find me  
Where the love-light gleams.  
I'll be home for Christmas  
If only in my dreams._**

**_-I'll Be Home For Christmas-_**

A few snowflakes fell into Jack's eyes as he traveled down the long dirt road. All around him families were still busy getting ready for the biggest holiday of the year. Here was a mother, picking out a turkey. There was a young man shopping for an engagement ring for his sweetheart. Here were children all running around in a snowball fight. There was a father and son choosing a tree to decorate.

And here was Jack, walking alone, merely a witness to the happiness all around him. It should have been perfect. The snow was falling, the lights were all up on the houses. Perfect.

And yet Jack still dreamt of a place far away.

He couldn't stop thinking of all the "should's". Jack _should_ be back at the Lodging House by now. He _should_ be sitting with Race, engaging in a nonsense game of cards. And the biggest should of all – he _should_ be happy at Christmas. But he simply couldn't force it this year.

There was still a week before the big day, and Jack thought for a moment that a week was more than enough time to get him to the one place he wanted to be. Santa Fe. Sure, there was no snow there in that desert. And sure, there would be no pine trees all done up with tinsel and lights. But no one really needed snow. And a cactus could be decorated just the same, right?

Jack kicked a bit of snow out of his path and sat down on a bench. He watched as the snow began to fall harder. Flakes collected on his shoulders and in his hair. Brushing them with a lazy hand, he took a cigarette and lit it quick with a match from his vest pocket. Taking a long drag, he let his head fall back and exhaled towards the sky. He remembered Sarah telling him once that Santa Fe must have the same sun as New York. And while that may have been true, certainly the two places couldn't have shared the same moon. The moon was Jack's, after all. Under that moon at night, he could be the dreamer he was born to be.

"I'll go home soon," Jack whispered to himself, his breath coming out in a thick mist.

He took another hit off his cigarette and closed his eyes. As he exhaled, he saw a little ranch, belonging just to him – he'd given up long ago on his parents. No, he would live there alone. He'd have a few horses maybe, and they'd be his only company. And he would be happy then.

And sure, it was a lonely life, always living for tomorrow, but what else could Jack hope for?

Suddenly a familiar face snuck up on him.

"Whatcha doin', Jacky boy?" Race asked, sitting beside his friend.

Jack shrugged, bumming Race a cigarette. Race lit up and shivered a bit. "Well, it's freezin', an' ya sittin' out heah in da cold…"

Jack chuckled. "Just thinkin'."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah."

"Well, ya wanna come an' think inside where ya ain't gonna get pneumonia?"

Jack laughed again and leaned back with his hands behind his head. He knew he wasn't going to get any more time to himself, not now that Race had found him. So he frowned a little and told Racetrack, "Dis Christmas, Race, wanna know what would be da best present evah?"

Race rolled his eyes, knowing exactly what was coming.

"Tah finally get me ticket tah Santa Fe …"

Race patted his friend on the back, "I know, Jacky, I know …"

Jack knew no one took him seriously, but that was alright, so long as he had his dream. "Go ahead n' laugh, Race," he said, "But dis year, I'm gonna be home fah Christmas …"

_If only in my dreams..._


	10. Crutchy

**Disclaimer: Not mine, sadly, though getting Crutchy for Christmas would be fantastic lol.**

_Author's Notes: So this will probably be the last chapter in this series, because I haven't actually finished the one for tomorrow yet and I doubt I'll have time lol, don't hate me, I'll keep the idea for next year. Anyhow, this might be my favorite anyhow, lol, it's set in the same time as the movie, and Crutchy is the same age as well. That's all I really have to say, so please enjoy, review, and have a wonderful Christmas!_

**_Chestnuts roasting on an open fire  
Jack Frost nipping at your nose  
Yuletide carols being sung by a choir  
And folks dressed up like eskimos_**

**_Everybody knows some turkey and some mistletoe  
Help to make the season bright  
Tiny tots with their eyes all aglow  
Will find it hard to sleep tonight_**

**_They know that Santa's on his way  
He's loaded lots of toys  
And goodies on his sleigh  
And every mother's child is gonna spy  
To see if reindeer really know how to fly_**

**_And so, I'm offering this simple phrase  
To kids from one to ninety-two  
Although its been said  
Many times, many ways  
Merry Christmas! Merry Christmas! Merry Christmas to… You!_**

**_-The Christmas Song-_**

Summer faded out, to be replaced by the sharp colors of the fall, And in a few months, fall too faded – it's colors being replaced by an utter lack of any color at all. No more reds and oranges but rather grays and whites. Snow started to fall late in November, and the newsies bundled up warm for the long winter ahead. Winter, for obvious reasons, was their least favorite season. The only part of winter they enjoyed even a little was, of course, Christmas. And not for the presents, because newsies never got presents. Not for the mistletoe, because newsies rarely had anyone pretty to kiss beneath it. Not for the lights and tinsel, because these decorations were not wasted on the lower class of New York, and the newsies always felt like they were doing something wrong when they stood with their dirty hands and stared at the rich people's Christmas lights.

No, what the newsies loved the most about Christmas was Crutchy. Sure, this might sound a little strange to someone who's never spent the season with the boys in the Lodging House. But if you asked Jack, Race, Mush, Blink, Skittery, Boots, or any of the boys, Christmas with Crutchy was the greatest gift any of them could ask for. As if the boy cripple wasn't nice enough every other day of the year, on the days before Christmas he positively glowed. And it didn't make sense to anyone else because, well, to them Christmas kind of sucked. No presents, no family, no big dinner with all the trimmings. But Crutchy still managed to get into the spirit, even when he was sleeping on a hard mattress with a single blanket, no good socks, and a shivering Blink on the bunk above him. Even when times were bad, you could always count on Crutchy to have a smile on, because, after all, it was Christmas right?

And the best part of all was when Crutchy would tell his stories at night about what Christmas was for the well-to-do of the city, and what Christmas might be like for all of them one day, if they ever managed to make their way out of this hellhole. He'd usually start off telling the story just to one of the younger boys, because they were always asking him for stories. That was the good thing about Crutchy mostly – he might have been physically handicapped, but his imagination worked just fine, and he was always spouting off, imagining something the rest of the boys knew to be impossible. He'd be sitting down in the common room, talking to Boots or someone, and usually Mush would find his way over to listen too, then Blink – cause Blink went everywhere Mush went – and then Jack maybe, maybe Race next. Until all of them were gathered about Crutchy, who was just sitting there like it was nothing, his eyes kinda looking far away to where none of the other boys could see.

"Dey roast dese chestnuts, ya know, on a big fire, dat crackles an' spits an' it's all warm inside, almost too warm," he'd say, while the newsies were all bundled up, even indoors, on the cold wood floor.

"An' outside da window's Jack Frost, paintin' pictures on da glass dat come out all icy and poifect. An' ya know dose carolahs we heah? Well, dey go up tah people's houses an' knock on da door and sing tah dem, just like dat. Can ya imagine a whole big group a' people comin' tah ya house just tah sing tah ya a Christmas song?"

Several of the younger boys smiled – they loved the carols.

"An' everybody's always all dressed up like an Eskimo," Crutchy would say with a big old smile, just like he'd always have.

And he'd go on to talk about turkey and mistletoe, and the little kids who would stay up at night, their eyes all aglow, just to see if they could spot good old Santa Clause at his work.

He'd go on describing all these things, even though most of the boys had never seen any of them. Like a whole sleigh full of toys and goodies, and flying reindeer in the night.

And on Christmas Eve, that was the best night, because after he'd finished telling the boys all about these things they might or might not ever see one day, he'd struggle to his feet and stretch his back. Then he'd look at the newsies on the floor, all begging with their eyes for him not to stop. But he'd look at them all and say, "Well, I bettah get tah bed, it's gettin' late, right? An' tomarrah's Christmas already!"

The boys would all nod, cause Crutchy really was going to bed and there was nothing they could do to stop him and ask him for more stories. So they'd all mumble their "Night Crutchy"'s, and he'd smile all around just once more and say, really genuinely happy: "Merry Christmas, guys."

And that was what made the newsies' Christmas each and every year. Because even though those words had been said so many times, so many ways, coming from Crutchy they were always special. There was nothing like a "Merry Christmas" from Crutchy – it was the best there was. Maybe because it was directed to everyone of the world, and just to you, all at the same time. "Merry Christmas," he'd say, and then leave for bed.

"Merry Christmas," the newsies would echo.

_**Merry Christmas to you.**_


End file.
